


What A Difference Coffee Makes

by afteriwake



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Coffee, F/M, Grouchy Molly, Happy Ending, Kiss on the Cheek, POV Molly Hooper, Poor Molly, Pre-Sherlock Holmes/Molly Hooper, Sherlock Holmes Has a Heart, Surprise Kissing, Surprised Sherlock Holmes, Surprises, The Long Night
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-25
Updated: 2018-04-25
Packaged: 2019-03-23 08:46:55
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 853
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13783917
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/afteriwake/pseuds/afteriwake
Summary: After one of the longest evenings of her life, going out and about on a case with Sherlock, Molly comes into work to find a lovely surprise...with some strings attached. But she has some demands of her own.





	What A Difference Coffee Makes

**Author's Note:**

  * For [3seconds](https://archiveofourown.org/users/3seconds/gifts).



> _Ages_ ago, **MaybeItsJustMyType** posted the picture below on Tumblr, and **3seconds** mentioned in a reply to the post " _And now I want a fic about Molly being at work, looking like this and it’s because she and Sherlock had some crazy adventure the night before_." I decided to write this fic for the birthday celebration, and I hope it's well-liked.  
> 

She knew she looked like something Toby might have dragged out from under the sofa, but she didn’t want to hear it. She wanted to ignore the stares and simply make her way to the canteen to get the largest cup of the sludge they called coffee there, add sugar and cream and chug down _at least_ six of those cups so she could be awake and alert.

Because God forbid Sherlock to remember she had a _post_ to go to in the morning when he called her on a midnight rendezvous that turned into a chase across London and the area outside the city and her knee deep in mud with her hair frizzed out and absolutely no sleep.

It wasn’t until she got to her office that her long evening turned into long day began to look up. There was, plugged into a spare electrical socket on her desk, a personal coffee machine. Next to it? A pound of extremely expensive coffee. And there was a card settled in front of the coffee, opened to stay up.

She went to the card and picked it up, seeing Sherlock’s precise handwriting. _A balm for an unfortunate evening,_ it said. She smiled just slightly at that. She had no idea how Sherlock had beat her to Barts to set this up from New Scotland Yard. Perhaps he’d called in a favor from his brother. It didn’t matter, though. She had something better than canteen sludge for her day.

She set about making a cup, relaxing as the aroma of Hacienda La Esmeralda filled the air. When it was done, she decided, on a hunch, to go to the small mini refrigerator that was used to hold her lunches when they needed to be refrigerated, and she found a bottle of her favorite flavored creamer in there. She made a mental note to make sure there was always a bottle in there from now on because this coffee maker was a gift from above.

She had just settled into her chair, coffee made to perfection, and she was about to take a sip when her office door banged open. She glared at Sherlock, who stood in the doorway, and lifted up a finger when he opened his mouth to speak. “Coffee first,” she murmured before taking a sip.

Fortunately, for once, he was intelligent enough not to push whatever it was on her. Perhaps because she looked a fright. She didn’t care, honestly, because the coffee was doing wonderful things to her system. Finally, when the cup was nearly half empty, she lowered her finger. “Now you may speak.”

“I wanted to make sure everything was here and in working order,” he said quietly. “And I wanted to let you know there’s an appointment for you at Stuart Phillips today during your lunch. Don’t worry, you have an extended lunch so there’s time for you to make your reservation at Ormer Mayfair with Lestrade.”

She raised an eyebrow. “Why am I having lunch with Greg?”

He looked a bit sheepish. “To go over the autopsy results from the bodies we found last night.”

She groaned and set her coffee down with a bit more force than intended. Thankfully, it didn’t slosh over the sides. “Sherlock! I have three postmortems to conduct as it is!”

“There’s a bit of a rush, I’m afraid,” he said. “My brother wants results. It’s tied to a delicate military operation.”

She shut her eyes and asked the good Lord to give her patience. “I want more than a trip to the salon and a good lunch.”

“Anything,” Sherlock said.

“A week without you breaking into my flat.”

“Done.”

“Dinner at La Trompette.”

“Done as well.”

“And you to dine with me.”

There was a long pause, so long that she opened her eyes. Sherlock was gaping at her. “Why?” he finally said.

“Sherlock, have you wondered why I left the warmth and comfort of my flat at midnight and let you lead me all about town and end up like this?” she said, using her hands to gesture to her wild hair, bags under her eyes, wrinkled red and white floral jumper and mud-stained trousers and trainers. “And not murder you in that field?”

“Because you’re you. Molly. My most trusted pathologist.”

“Because I fancy you. And you went to all this trouble for me.” She sighed. “You don’t even need to consider it a date. But it’s not worth going to La Trompette if I’m going to eat alone, and I want to dine with you.”

He stood by the door for a moment longer, and she could see his mind at work. Then he came in, slowly, and when he stood next to her he leaned over, pressing a kiss to her cheek. “A date it is,” he said. “And I’ll do my best to behave.”

She looked up at him with a smile, getting one in return, and then he nodded and turned, quickly leaving her office. She picked up her cup again, taking a long sip. Maybe last night’s adventures weren’t so bad after all...


End file.
